Not According to Plan

When I drop my glasses

in the airport and they

are crushed in the walkway

between terminals, I get to

meet the three kind souls

who help me on my way.

Then I hear you crying

after everyone has left

and bring you water.

Ever since the lock on

my door broke, I have

more visitors.

Now the road I always

take is detoured, which

I curse until I see the

heron glide across the

small pond I didn’t

know was there.